I then visited the church of St. Lazarus, which is surrounded by fine rows of pillars, with pointed arches, which give an impressive and sacred aspect to the building. The main part of the church is built in the form of a cross, with a dome in the centre, and is evidently of great antiquity. The building comprises three long large vaults, surmounted by three small cupolas. It seems that the Pacha Kudschuk Mehemed commanded the demolition of these domes, on the ground that only a mosque should be so adorned, but after long and earnest entreaties, at last yielded so far as to consent to their being only half torn down, and the openings filled up with planks. They were afterwards restored, and fifteen years ago, a handsome clock tower was erected, surmounted by the Russian double eagle. When I issued from the church, evening had closed in, and the priests, robed in black, with lights in their hands, lent an air of solemn mystery to this fine building. St. Lazarus is supposed to have died in Cyprus, and his marble coffin, adorned with one rose, stands in a narrow recess. The tomb is empty; the bones, in all probability, having been taken possession of by the Venetians as sacred relics. Next morning I wandered out to explore the environs of the town. The air was spring-like and balmy, flowers, amongst which I observed tulips and hyacinths, enlivened the ground, and the blue waves danced in the light of the sun. Waving palms and high hedges of Indian cactus, hid the haven from my sight, and lent an air of solitude and repose to the whole scene, whilst as far as the eye could reach, the fields were filled with fruit trees, and the landscape enlivened by flocks of goats and sheep. The whole scene formed an Oriental picture of great beauty, and I could not help exclaiming to myself, “If this is the worst part of the country what a paradise the interior must be!”